


to see you again

by scottmczall



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Car Sex, F/M, Fingerfucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 14:17:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4103935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scottmczall/pseuds/scottmczall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt:<i> In a relationship. Lydia notices that Stiles never gets jealous when guys try to hit on her and she asks him why. He gives her a sincere and confident answer which in return turns her on.</i><br/>_</p><p>Stiles snorts, “Really? You thought something was wrong because I was polite?”</p><p>Lydia laughs openly, feeling her face and neck heat up with something that doesn’t even resemble shame, hyperaware of where Stiles’ hands are touching her. “Can you blame me?” She pushes, leaning forward and closing the space between them, their lips locking together easily. They hadn’t seen each other in two months, and she’s feeling untouched and sensitive, urging something, anything. Her entire body rolls forward this time, and she straddles him without thinking too much about it, propping herself on his lap and deepening the kiss, hugging him by the neck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to see you again

**Author's Note:**

> more filled prompts, my children

Lydia's used to blinking uninterestedly at everything, and that's not only because a lot of things are, in fact, uninteresting now, but because people--mostly men, she won't lie--appear to transform into all layers of unpalatable when she happens to give them the light of day. So, onto blinking uninterestedly, that's what she does when Mark, the almost seven feet tall buff nerd from her Introduction to Complex Analysis class, leans over her exhaling interest. "Hey, Lydia." He smiles sharp and full of intentions.

 

Lydia steadies her posture, playing with the straw on her bright red drink, "Hello." She greets courtly, in the overly sweet voice she'll only occasionally use now.

 

"So… Summer's here." Mark chit chats cluelessly and she nods, because, well, yes… summer _is_ here. She looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to add to his previous conclusion, "Still haven't met the boyfriend you keep talking about."

 

"Ah," Lydia reverberates in realization, barely containing her mocking smile. Of course he wants to discuss that. She'd been shooting him down since day one, trying not to draw anyone's attention by publicly humiliating him with a more than remarkable no--so maybe she'd used her relationship as a shield. A means to an end, if anything, because his time would come eventually. "Well, he should be here any minute now, so maybe we can remedy your persistent need to meet him." She bites, keeping her tone even and silky, hopefully throwing him off.

 

"Well, if you say so," He tips his beer bottle towards her before taking a sip and moves to the side, leaning back on the counter and supporting himself on both elbows.

 

Lydia throws him a dirty look, cursing herself for planning to meet Stiles at a bar near campus on the last day of school. "Mmm." She hums, back to polite, but when Mark slides closer again, a pretentious smile surfacing, Lydia's head snaps in the entry's direction, heart jumping excitedly at the sudden tug on her chest.  

 

Stiles crosses the door with his backpack hanging from one shoulder and a clueless look on his face, searching for her around the room. It takes only a second before he's locking eyes with her and throwing her a rare smile as he walks up to her. She inches forward just a little bit, feeling her blood pumping in anticipation.

 

The backpack slides down Stiles' arm and onto the floor as he surges forward unceremoniously, one hand pulling her closer by the lumbar as he envelopes her in a tight embrace. He covers her entire body with his, dipping his face into the crook of her neck. "God, I missed you." He breathes out against her skin.

 

"You better have." She retorts instinctively, gripping to him by the neck. "You weren't the only one." She whispers so only he can hear her, even though the snooker player group in the other side of the bar makes a good job of muffling any sound that isn't their screaming.

 

Stiles pulls away, cupping her cheeks carefully, and Lydia swears he'll finally, _finally_ kiss her, but she loses him when his eyes wander away from hers, attention caught by something else. "...Hello?" He frowns, loosening his grip around her. Lydia inhales sharply, ready to slice Mark in three thousand pieces.

 

"So you're the boyfriend." He says playfully, overly relaxed, is Lydia's to say anything on it. "I'm Mark." His arm bypasses Lydia's shoulder, brushing against her skin in a fluid motion and she almost scoffs at his audacity.

 

Stiles blinks once, passively, and Lydia's sure he's just gathering his thoughts on verbal aggression, but then his hand meets Mark's, and he's throwing him that quirked down smirk she's memorized so long ago. "Stiles." He says courtly, easygoing in a way that she can't help but lean in in the slightest, eyes slitted, _just to make sure_.

 

"Not worried leaving such a beautiful girl to fend for herself like this?" He proceeds, and this time Lydia turns, her mind providing her with just how much space and time she'd need to break her glass on his head (among other pain inducing ways).

 

Stiles touches her elbow and strokes the inside of her forearm with his thumb, pressing lightly, "Oh, no, she's the one who does all the worrying here." He winks at her, tapping her shoulder teasingly.

 

She smiles at him incredulously, before partially averting her attention, "Mhm. Sleepless nights." Lydia half nods, glancing at the both of them.

 

"It's because you know what a catch I am, you can't help it." Stiles shrugs and sighs, a hint of laughter in his voice.

 

It's easy to follow his lead into mocking people mindlessly--and they're a dangerous duo when it comes that, because both their limits cross lines they shouldn't. It reminds her of high school. It wasn't that long ago, but there's a coiling, undeniable feeling of nostalgia eating at her mercilessly every time she happens to reminisce.

 

They've both changed a great deal, from round faces to angular jaws and their desperation turned into a steel hard hope. She supposes that's part of what happens when you face so much shit--well, when you do it by Scott McCall's side, at least. It doesn't feel like she's grasping at straws anymore, the voices trapped inside her hum before they scream, and she knows how to soothe them, ease their way out as best as she can.

 

It's a better life than she foresaw. And Stiles is there.

 

The dark circles under his eyes never quite left completely--they faded considerably, but she can still trace them with her fingers, and sometimes it feels like a projection of her own mind, but then Stiles stares too long into the mirror and texts Allison, and she knows it's not.

 

The current interaction presses against her foreignly, though, because she's seen Stiles' possessiveness in more angles than she'd care to count, the way he'll grasp to someone and not let go, snarl and hiss at whoever might glance at them wrong. She's visited all of his particularly dark corners with him, taken a glimpse at just how awry things could've gone--so this strikes her.

 

"We should go." She decides, leaning on him to get off of her stool. Lydia grabs Stiles by the wrist and pulls her purse from the counter, "Goodbye, Mark." She turns slowly, batting her eyelashes at him when his mouth gapes open. Suddenly he's easier to stand.

 

"I--ok." Stiles frowns, picking up his backpack just in time before she's pulling him the opposite way, "See ya, Mark, my man!" He calls out mockingly from afar and Lydia's sure he winked just then as well. Rolling her eyes is inevitable sometimes.

 

She pushes the door open easily, feeling energy pulse inside of her, and the contrast of dark to bright doesn't even faze her as she walks to her car on determined steps. "What was that?" Lydia hears herself say before the words can be stopped. She's still pulling him, but her grip isn't so tight now, and she's not looking at him.

 

"What was what?"

 

Lydia sighs briefly, "You being calm and collected?" They finally reach her car, and she sinks a hand down her purse to look for the keys, "That's not so much you as it is anyone else but," She snarks, hooking her index finger around her keychain and opening up the car.

 

"That's not true," He frowns, hand going for the passenger seat's door just as Lydia opens up the door to the back. “Wha—"

 

"Just get in." She nods towards the car and Stiles blinks cluelessly at her before obliging. She follows him quietly, making herself comfortable on her seat before closing the door. “So…” Lydia looks at him expectantly, propping her hands on her lap.

 

Stiles rolls his eyes, inching closer, “Listen, I trust you, I don’t have a reason to be openly jealous and incinerate everyone who talks to you like that. Plus you can handle yourself better than I ever will.” He explains with a shrug, even though she can hear a bit of sourness behind his tone, hands trailing up her thigh until they come together with her own.

 

“Okay,” She says softly, letting her worry melt away. "So nothing’s wrong?”

 

Stiles snorts, “Really? You thought something was wrong because I was polite?”

 

Lydia laughs openly, feeling her face and neck heat up with something that doesn’t even resemble shame, hyperaware of where Stiles’ hands are touching her. “Can you blame me?” She pushes, leaning forward and closing the space between them, their lips locking together easily. They hadn’t seen each other in two months, and she’s feeling untouched and sensitive, urging something, anything. Her entire body rolls forward this time, and she straddles him without thinking too much about it, propping herself on his lap and deepening the kiss, hugging him by the neck.

 

Stiles’ answer is always eager, an angry match, like she’s fire and he’s gasoline. “I take it you like my politeness?” He smiles, kissing the corner of her mouth and palming her ribs and waist.

 

“It is much appreciated, yes,” She grinds her hips up, dragging it against his fabric covered skin and their breaths hitch in sync, “I missed you,” Lydia whispers, letting her hand travel down to the bulge inside his pants and squeezes lovingly, listening to his half sob, “All of you.”

 

“Oh. Oh, god,” Stiles swallows, “Fuck, I missed you too, so much, I—” He pulls her dress’ collar to the side, kissing the crook of neck and down her shoulder, “I can’t believe you wanna fuck inside your car,” He giggles manically and pops three of her buttons open.

 

Lydia sighs, “Only because I’m in a hurry,” She replies sourly, because even making out inside of a car is already uncomfortable and claustrophobic, but this will have to do. “Let me show you something.” She smiles at him and takes his hand, placing it on her knee and trailing up slowly, shivering when it reaches her inner thigh, until she reaches her cunt, cupping herself with her hand above his.

 

Stiles’ mouth falls open and he blinks excitedly, “Are you— _shit!_ ” He curses and kisses her, his other hand pulling at her hair firmly. His finger draws a line through her slit, rubbing shallowly around her clit just enough to get her sighing and whining for more against his lips. “You’re gonna fucking kill me,” He pants out, “You are, you’re—too much.”

 

“Endure.” She laughs brokenly when he rubs her clit, taking a steady grip on her ass to keep her hips from stuttering. Her head falls forward, hair cascading down her back and shoulder. She strains a loud moan when Stiles teases at her hole, his finger diving easily inside. “Stiles,” She calls once, and he’s scooping the hand on her ass to the side, spreading her cheeks. Lydia almost chokes when he circles her rim, everything damp and warm, and his finger slides in there too, just deep enough to have her pulling her bottom lip in between her teeth, eyes screwing shut. “Stiles,” She calls again when his thumb’s running up and thoroughly drawing circles against her clit.

 

He licks and nips at her naked skin, kissing the swell of her breasts and pumps his fingers faster after adding a second one into her pussy. Lydia gasps, thinking that this could end up being the fastest orgasm of her entire life, and cups his jaw, leaning down for a kiss. There's a lot she wants to do with his tongue, like suck on it then bite down on his lip, but they’re both invested in the fingers sliding in and out of her, plus her throbbing clit demanding more attention, “Use your palm,”

 

And Stiles obeys, because he usually does here, when she tells him what would feel better. The heel of his palm collides against her clit just as his fingers bury deep inside her, and everything settles into a rhythm that has her brain drowning into something she couldn’t describe if she tried, her breathing coming out faster and harsher, body growing warmer and skin thinner. She can feel him entirely, his plaid button up rough against her, and his quiet breath ghosting her cheek.

 

“C’mon, baby,” Stiles encourages, working her harder, faster. “Do it, c’mon,” He whispers and steals a poorly calculated kiss that takes more of her cheek than her mouth.

 

When she comes, she does it with her fingers sinking down mercilessly in his nape, her face buried in the crook of his neck and her groan vibrating through his skin, just as telling as her ass and her cunt clenching around his fingers spastically. She takes a deep, shaky breath, her muscles feeling untied and saggy. “Oh,” She frowns when Stiles takes his fingers out slowly, careful not to hurt her.

 

He smiles at her and she leans back to look at him and sucks at two of his own fingers. “Do you wanna wait a little?” He asks, because sometimes she does—but not today. She shakes her head, a hand running through her hair.

 

Stiles rarely takes time with anything regarding sex—even when he tells her he’ll get back to her more leisured days, when she flicks his nipples and sucks him until he’s at the verge of coming and stops, just to see the tears of pleasure pooling in his eyes—so when he’s already out and positioning himself around her hole, maneuvering her by the ass cheeks, all she is, is expecting.

 

He enters her slowly, head falling to the side with a sigh, “Oh, fuck, I missed this,” He comments, shuddering.

 

“Different from your hand?” She bites playfully and Stiles sobs out a chuckle, nodding absently. “Did you think of me,” Lydia whispers in his ear, kissing him just under it, “While you jerked off in your room?”

 

His hips pump up a little harsher once, and Lydia’s pretty sure it’s more of an accident than anything, because Stiles mutters a curse from under his breath, “Yes, so much,” He answers after a beat, “You have no idea how much, Lydia, I—“ He swallows, looking lost, and thrust up with all he’s got, hugging her body closer by the waist.

 

Lydia smiles down at him, even if he can’t really see her with his nose bumping against her collarbones, and reaches for his chest, hand roaming until she finds his nipple and rolls it in between her fingers. The sound he makes is intoxicating, small and strained. Lydia knows how much he likes it, and abuses it mercilessly, pulling and teasing until they’re sore and hard.

 

“It's your turn, Stiles,” She reminds him, doing her best to meet me halfway even when he’s straining her with his hold around her waist. He groans, letting his head fall back when his thrusts turn erratic, falling off his rhythm, the sounds coming out of him in more guttural, animalistic ways.

 

Lydia rubs herself when it becomes clear that he’ll come any minute now, biting down on her bottom lip when the familiar pleasure takes over her—and she’s already so close, so willing and ready, that all it takes is feeling him spill inside her, filling her up with only a grunt as a warning, to follow him into the edge. She slumps against him, breathing heavy, straining and relaxing with the aftershocks.

 

“I'm gonna not be jealous and stay a few towns away from you more often.” Stiles decides, breathing her in.

 

Lydia rolls her eyes, “So this is the type of thing I erased from my memory along these two months, huh? Allison _did_ say I was romanticizing you.”

 

“You wound me.” Stiles snorts and kisses her chin. “I missed you.” He completes tenderly.

 

She smiles, “You’ve said that.”

 

“I really, really missed you.” Stiles replies almost automatically.

 

“You weren’t the only one.”

**Author's Note:**

> im a very serious woman talking about feedback and comments. listen to me.


End file.
